


relax and catch the manic rhapsody

by catchandsingthesuninflight



Series: 31 Days of Wayhaven [1]
Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: 31 Days of Wayhaven, F/F, honestly don't know what to tag, i'm a simp for both ava and morgan, it's kind of spicy guys, maybe i just think that cos i only write angst lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26756302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catchandsingthesuninflight/pseuds/catchandsingthesuninflight
Summary: Jazz and Morgan, making wagers over the Detective's wreck of a car.
Relationships: Female Detective/Morgan (The Wayhaven Chronicles)
Series: 31 Days of Wayhaven [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949068
Kudos: 14





	relax and catch the manic rhapsody

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1: Sharp
> 
> Am I going to be able to keep up the whole month? Almost definitely not. But I'll give it my best shot.
> 
> Title taken from Moment's Silence (Common Tongue) by Hozier, which is the one everyone uses because honestly, it is THE Morgan x Detective song.

“Always gotta have a solution for everything, eh, sweetheart?”

Jazz spins around, crooked smile already on her face. “What can I say? I’m a multi-talented individual.” 

She dusts imaginary dirt off her hands and sidles up to Morgan, who watches her with heavy-lidded eyes. The usual cigarette is noticeably absent from between her lips, and so Jazz leans close, tipping her head up to brush them with the lightest of kisses. Her gaze flickers back up to see Morgan’s eyes darken, and she feels her hands tighten around her waist, pulling her in--

They both jump as the hatchback bangs loudly behind them, like a crackle of thunder in the night, before it chokes and sputters out pitifully. Before either of them can even blink, smog begins to rise from beneath the hood, spiraling unbidden and unbothered into the crisp spring air.

Morgan snorts. “Guess you’re not as smart as you thought.”

Jazz scowls at her, unimpressed, then turns the expression on her beloved piece of junk. Not for the first time, she considers putting the old thing to rest. Maybe she could finesse the Agency higher-ups into giving her one of those government-issue SUVs. She sure as hell doesn’t have the money to buy anything herself. Becoming Wayhaven’s liaison didn’t give her _that_ much of a raise.

She sighs, and pulls herself away from Morgan. The woman lets out a groan in protest. “We were in the middle of something--”

“Unfortunately, sunshine,” Jazz drawls, already popping the car’s hood and waving smoke away, “I don’t quite have the physical capabilities that you all do. So, this is my only ride. _So,_ I have to fix it. We can have fun later.”

“I mean, if you want, _I_ could give you a r--”

 _“Morgan,”_ Jazz says sharply, throwing a pointed look at the group of secondary schoolers passing along on the sidewalk. The woman huffs, her arms crossing, but says no more about it.

When Jazz glances back, she’s fidgeting, her fingers alternating between drumming steadily on her crossed arms and combing through her long, dark, hair. Still no cigarette. Still there, with her.

“Make you a deal,” Jazz proposes casually, turning back to the guts of her car, and only continuing when Morgan responds with a half-interested grunt behind her. “If I can fix this, proving that I _am_ really as smart as I think--which,” she gestures with a pointed finger, “I am, and I _can_ \--then, let’s say, for the next _month,_ whenever we’re headed to the same destination, you have to forgo the superspeed and ride along with me.”

Morgan rolls her eyes. “Ride with you in your half-dead, sorry excuse for a car? Not overly enticing, sweetheart.”

“Well, obviously. That’s what happens if you _lose.”_ Maybe Jazz shouldn’t get such a kick out of inconveniencing the vampire, but she does. And if she gets to spend a little more quiet time with her, in which no explicit moves can be made lest they cause a road accident, then, that’s just a plus. 

But Morgan’s already looking like she’s losing focus, which means it’s time for Jazz to improvise. She’s good at that. She cocks her head even as she re-examines the coolant reservoir. “And, I mean, nothing can be said about what may or may not happen _after_ those rides…”

And just like that, she has Morgan’s full attention once again. Nice how that works.

“Oh?” Morgan says, her wolf’s smile spreading across her face.

“Oh,” Jazz mimics coolly, fingers twisting at a valve, doing her best to focus on the task at hand, even as Morgan steps into her peripheral vision. Close.

“And if you can’t fix it?” Morgan brushes a lock of Jazz’s hair behind her ear, her voice low and smooth. “If I win?”

Jazz falters, has to brace her hands on the sides of her car to keep from toppling over. When Morgan presses against her, hard and close, she has to stand up to chase away the rising heat. Morgan is _right there,_ her dark, heavy gaze and crooked smile making Jazz falter. But she’s waiting for an answer.

“If you win--” Jazz’s voice catches at the edges before she quickly clears her throat, ignoring the way Morgan’s smile lengthens. “If you win, I’ll stay the night at the warehouse.”

Morgan’s no fool. She raises a slow hand to brush her thumb, oh-so-slowly, along Jazz’s lips. “And?”

“And, you can spend the night with me. My room, your room, doesn’t matter. And,” Jazz draws out the word, swallows, “I’ll let you do whatever you want.”

Morgan’s hands have gotten to tracing the cut of Jazz’s jaw, before travelling down to rest on her hips. “Just the night?”

“Just the night,” Jazz confirms, tucking her head to nudge at the juncture where Morgan’s neck and shoulder meet. “For now.”

She feels a tug at the back of her head, at the pit of her stomach, at somewhere beneath her breastbone, when Morgan pulls her up for a kiss. It is as intoxicating as it ever is, teeth and tongues and _hunger,_ before Jazz’s hands wrap around Morgan’s back to pull her closer, _closer--_ then all at once it melts into something slow and sweet. Like honey and spice, and home. It’s almost a strange dissonance. When did things become this sweet between them? Jazz finds she doesn’t mind it at all.

When it’s over, and they’re left with heavy breaths and lingering looks, Morgan gives the detective her wolf’s grin, and Jazz catches the quick flash of wicked fangs. Although some of their usual sharpness is noticeably lacking. Maybe Jazz has simply morphed it to softness in her mind. 

“Deal,” Morgan tells her, and she smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me @gayprophets on the blue hellsite ;))


End file.
